


I am a Bunny

by sumhowe_sailing



Series: Raffles Week drabbles [2]
Category: Raffles - E. W. Hornung
Genre: Fluff, because protective Raffles is my favorite Raffles, set early in their school days
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-13
Updated: 2017-03-13
Packaged: 2018-10-04 08:08:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10272098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sumhowe_sailing/pseuds/sumhowe_sailing
Summary: Raffles gives Bunny a present; Bunny doesn't react the way he thought he might.





	

“Well go on, Bunny, open it!” Raffles prodded. The younger boy, cross-legged on the floor in front of him, was still staring in mute astonishment at the package that had just been tossed into his lap. He looked up at Raffles with a strange expression, but made no move to unwrap it. Exasperated, he prodded again. “It won’t bite you, you know.”

“Raffles, I…” he looked down again, still not touching the package. What on earth was wrong with the boy? Raffles had only wanted to give him a welcoming gift, a little joke–what was making him so grave?

“What’s wrong, Bunny?”

The boy looked up at him again. Fear–that was it. That was the look in his eyes. Of what, though–him? He frowned internally, careful not to let it show. Either he had a history with older boys taking advantage, or he’d heard too many stories about such things. Either way, Raffles did not like the way fear looked on that innocent face, and determined at once to eradicate it. He slid onto the floor beside the boy, and explained gently,

“It’s a welcoming present, that’s all. I thought of you when I saw it, and decided you ought to have it.”

The boy ran a thumb softly over an edge of the brown paper, considering. At length, he managed to say,

“I can’t pay you back for it.”

“Bunny,” he laughed, “I wouldn’t let you if you could.”

After a few more minutes of soothing and prodding, Raffles had convinced him to open the package. He fumbled with the twine knot for a minute before the rest came undone and a small book slid out onto his lap. Raffles watched his expression carefully as he read the title: _I am a Bunny_. He thought at first the confusion would turn to either laughter or indignation, but it didn’t. A small, crooked smile bloomed into a grin as he flipped through the pages slowly. He could not have been reading it–that would have gone _much_ more quickly–but he seemed to be savoring it all the same.

When he finally looked up, Raffles could swear there were tears in the corners of his eyes. Raffles didn’t find himself surprised very often, but this small boy had caught him off guard more than once tonight. Was he really so touched? And here he’d thought they would have a little laugh together and forget all about it. Maybe he was just relieved that Raffles hadn’t had anything worse in store? Or maybe he wasn’t used to getting presents? Well, Raffles could fix that.

“Well Bunny,” he said, reaching out to ruffle his hair and put a clear stop to the moment, “off you hop.”

Bunny stood, holding the book close to his chest, and headed for his room. Before he was quite there, he paused and looked back.

“Thank you.”

Raffles waved him on.

~~~

It had been a tedious day and he needed a distraction. Otherwise, he probably wouldn’t have taken advantage of Bunny’s unusually long absence to go through his rooms. It was an instinct of boredom, nothing more.

He smiled at the pictures of Bunny’s family he kept in a drawer–too embarrassed, perhaps, to leave them in plain sight, but too sentimental to do without. He glanced through the books he kept by his bed, but he wasn’t particularly interested in them just now. The box hidden under the bed was a touching surprise–in it, Raffles recognized several of the little presents he’d given Bunny over the last few months. He hadn’t really thought about them much. They were just things he picked up and passed on–he just wanted Bunny to trust him, or get used to presents, or learn that Raffles wouldn’t expect or accept anything in return. It had worked. Now, when Raffles tossed something to him, he opened it eagerly (though he tended to thank Raffles rather more than _he_ was comfortable with).

Nudging these things aside, he saw a notebook on the bottom of the box. Curiosity compelled him to pull it out. Inside he found page after page of handwritten poetry–was his Bunny a writer? He listened for a moment, but there was no sound of Bunny in the room beyond or on the stair; he flopped down on the bed to read.

It did not take him long to realize something was wrong with the pillow. It may have been a slim volume, but he could still feel the book beneath his head distinctly. Sitting up again, he slid his hand beneath it–and pulled out _I am a Bunny._ Well. He tried to cough away the lump in his throat. Blaming it on the dust he’d disturbed in his rummage under the bed, he decided it was time to replace everything in the room just as he’d found it, and go visit one of his friends: it was sure to be much less dusty there.


End file.
